


Secret S*nt*

by chicagotime



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Chicago Firefighters, Christmas, Confession, Love, M/M, an okay poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:13:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28298064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicagotime/pseuds/chicagotime
Summary: Isaac has a crush on Caleb. Isaac draws Caleb’s name for Secret S*nt*. A confession ensues.
Relationships: Isaac Johnson/Caleb Alvarado
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6
Collections: We Are Fanwork Creators





	Secret S*nt*

Isaac knew he shouldn’t have agreed to a Secret S*nt*.

As a Communist, he hated Chr*stm*s. Sure, it was _supposed_ to be about the birth of James Chr*stm*s, Ruler of [REDACTED] and Creator of Souls, but over several centuries it’s become nothing but a capitalist’s dream, a way to manipulate consumers to buy anything and everything marketed to them out of peer pressure from literally every media. It’s terrible. He hates it.

Over the years, he’s managed to convince the other Firefighters that they should stop celebrating Chr*stm*s in the normal way (Socks was really hard to persuade for some reason. Are cats naturally capitalist? He doesn’t know), and they reached a compromise: a Secret S*nt*. It actually works for everyone - the whole team gets to buy _one_ gift for another teammate without being brainwashed into buying everything in sight. It’s perfect.

Or it was. Until this year.

When he picked a piece of paper from the firefighter helmet.

And written on the paper was -

Fuck.

It was Caleb Alvarado.

They’ve been on the same team since the beginning of blaseball - back then, he was a politically inclined nerd, yet to gain any gains, while Caleb was fresh from the forest, still missing his elven family. And ever since they first met, two completely different people back then, Isaac has maybe, just maybe, had a huge crush on him. 

He doesn’t know what exactly he… loves… about Caleb. Maybe it’s his long hair that always looks like it’s part of a L’Orleal commercial, or his big eyes that he could just fall into, or his slender hands, which are so, so soft, even after spending hours in the Forge, or the fact that every day he has a new set of braids, or the fact that he loves gardening, or the fact that he always smells of his favourite flowers (forget-me-nots), or, or -

Or maybe he just loves him, which is all that matters here, because it means that he literally has to get Caleb the best present ever.

With three days left, he tries to Gloogle things Caleb might like. Types of plants. Blacksmithing tools. Subscriptions to hairdressing magazines. He finds hundreds and hundreds of things that he _could_ like, but nothing that he _would_ like. None of these items have real meaning in their… friendship. Besides, he could probably make half of them because he’s so good at craftsmanship and also being hot. Who the hell pulls off a goatee, anyway?! Not Isaac! He can barely grow a moustache! How come _he_ gets to be so damn - ahem. Anyway.

With two days left, he tries to ask other Firefighters what Caleb might like. Most of them offer the same things he’s already considered (plants, luxury razors, really cool swords). Socks coughs up a hairball and presses a button that tells him to fuck off. He’s not really sure what that means. The Peanuts offer… well, peanuts, and a signed copy of the Holy Gospel of Legumes: Nuts, Cuts, and The Enlightening Ordeal of Being Shelled (Help Us, Save Us, Shell Us All). He politely declines, because Caleb isn’t a religious man, as far as he knows, and _everyone_ hates the Peanut. Rosa, of all people, offers some good advice. Make something yourself that comes from the heart, she says. Like a painting, or a tapestry, or a love letter, or something. Isaac is mortified that Rosa found out his big secret (what if she tells Caleb? What if she already told him? Oh no what if he already knows and he secretly hates him and he just hasn’t told him yet and - ), but according to her everyone except Caleb knows about it, and then she winks at him, but what does that even mean??? What????? How is he going to pull this off??????

With one day left, at 11:59 PM, Isaac sits in his room, covered in paint and clay, surrounded by mountains of assorted debris, tears streaming down his face. He realised that he couldn’t make anything hours ago. That didn’t stop him from trying (and failing). Knowing he has to do something, _anything_ , to keep what he has with Caleb, he grabs a pen and paper. It’s time to write.

It’s Chr*stm*s Day. Everyone is milling around the Firehouse the way lovable coworkers do, eating the traditional carbonated pickles and drinking cups of whipped cream. Everyone looks happy as they use this one day to express their love for each other. Everyone except Isaac, who stands in the corner, Chr*stm*s-themed hoodie covering his face, one hand holding a pickle while the other turns white in his pocket, clutching something we can’t see. He stares at the floor, knowing that Caleb is out there, having the time of his life, just like he always does, talking and eating and being really handsome and cool and smart and handsome and soft and great and no he can’t do this he can’t he’s going back to his room forever - 

“Heyyy Isaac.”

Oh no it’s him.

“Is everything ok?”

“Oh h-hey Caleb yep everything’s fine thanks how are you?”

“I’m… fine… could you maybe look at me? It’s hard to have a conversation with a hoodie, y’know.”

There’s a smile in his voice, so at least he isn’t mad yet. Isaac decides to look up, and hopes his eyes aren’t red anymore.

“Oh, Isaac.” Caleb tries to go in for a hug, but Isaac gently nudges him away.

“Not… no… I have… a present. For you. From the Secret S*nt*.” He slowly extracts the fist from his pocket and uncurls it, revealing a hand and a piece of folded paper, which unfolds to reveal a scattering of block letters. 

Caleb starts to say “You don’t have to.”, but it’s too late. He’s already begun to shakily read from the paper.

_Caleb,_

_I know we’ve been friends for a long time,_

_And I think you are sublime,_

_But it’s time that I confess,_

_Something I need to express._

_I think you’re the most beautiful man in the world,_

_And also in the alternate world,_

_And also in the alien worlds,_

_And also everything in the universe._

_Your hair in the sunlight, when dry, shines_

_And I can’t stop myself from imagining_

_What it would be like if I_

_Ran my hair through it and then also maybe kissed you on the cheek._

_Your biceps, forged in the Forge of fire,_

_Glisten with sweat_

_Because you always work shirtless,_

_And it always makes me blush but I hide it really well because I don’t want to make you think I’m a creep or something._

_Conversations with you entrance me like one of those_

_Snakes from the Jungle Book_

_And when we watched that movie you_

_Fell asleep on my shoulder and I think that maybe we should do that more often because it felt really nice and you’re really soft but in like a good way._

_What I’m trying to say_

_Is that I really like you_

_And maybe we could be boyfriends together and go out running and you can teach me how to make the best smoothies and hold my hands as we do it_

_But you can totally say no and I’ll respect that and never talk to you again and that’s ok bro haha._

A moment of silence hangs over the two like ominous mistletoe, which is quickly broken by the rustling of clothing as Caleb runs towards Isaac and holds him in a crushing embrace.

“Ike… of course I love you too…”

Cue mental fax machine noises.

“Aaaaaaaaa you do?”

“Of course! You’re so nice and funny and kind… wait. Did you think I would hate you after that?”

“Uhhhhhhhhh...”

Caleb’s head emerges from Isaac’s admirable pecs. “Aw Ike, you know I’d never hate you, right?”

“I mean… aw shucks Caleb… I don’t know…” Isaac’s head starts to turn away, trying to distract himself from the mistletoe directly above them.

“Hey. I love you. That won’t change. And if you don’t believe me, you can always write another amazing poem that you can use to break up with me. Okay?”

_”Yeah okay I love you too…”_

A healthy conversation starts between the two lovers that lasts several minutes, leading to a lengthy kiss under the mistletoe, fulfilling the plant’s destiny and concluding the story.

M*rry Chr*stm*s, everyone.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas! This fic is dedicated to the entire Blaseball community, especially the Chicago Firefighters. Thank you all for being so welcoming and accepting and cool and willing to put up with my shenanigans. This is my best shot at a gift to you <3


End file.
